


Puck

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 08:33:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4053514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James lies dying in a building, life flashing in front of his eyes while an apparition of his Quartermaster sits by his side and tries to convince him that he's actually there.</p><p>Fixed by the darling and super cool Bubbletrix <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puck

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I have no way to explain how this story came about to be. Just enjoy~
> 
> Now beta'd by the super cool Bubbletrix (Thank you so very much!)

This would be the mission that would end him. He was bleeding immensely and breathing his last breath in an old house that was falling around him. He was a double-oh agent and that was how things usually ended for them. Not to mention that one gypsy woman who read his palm on his first mission who'd told him he’d die alone and empty.

 

He wondered if he’d be mourned by any of his colleagues, and if the new M would look as miserable as the old one did whenever an agent was lost. Tanner might miss him, but then again he did owe the man 500 quid after last week’s poker game. Moneypenny would be pissed with him due to all the paperwork she had to fill in because he had to go and die on a mission in Eastern Europe. And Q… Well, Q was always pissed with him because he never brought his equipment back in one piece.

 

“I really tried this time, Q.” James breathed out, and tilted his head back to look at the cracked ceiling. He wondered if he’d bleed to death first or if a piece of falling debris would crush him.

 

Would Q yell at his coffin for throwing away the earwig seconds before getting shot, or because he went back on their little promise? Would he sneak in his office and drink himself into oblivion like he had when 005 died? The young man had looked so vulnerable back then, crying and shaking in James’ arms while the weather went insane, flooding London.

 

Maybe he should make an effort to crawl out of the building and reach a safe house, although he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Not that he saw anything besides the cracks in the yellow ceiling that were hiding memories of his childhood – oh, he must be dying if his life was flashing before his eyes. This time, he didn’t think he’d manage to wiggle his way out of crossing the River Styx.

 

Must he really relive his parents’ death? He was already upset that MI6 was going to sell his apartment and cars again. 

 

It was sort of funny that he couldn’t remember how he had escaped when his parents were executed. All he knew was that he was playing with his imaginary friend, the one with green eyes – like the quartermaster’s now that he thought about it – in the drawing room. His father was arguing with someone and his mother was trying to calm him down when the figment of imagination grabbed his arm and pulled him outside.

 

“Mother will be upset with us if we leave without telling her,” little James had said. But the imaginary friend scooped him up in his willowy arms and ran. That was when the shooting broke out.

 

He had tried to bolt back in the house, but his imagination wouldn’t let him move. 

 

“Shh, stay here. There is nothing we can do. I can only keep you safe.” He remembered hiding his tear-stained face in wild, soft brown hair as nimble fingers started to move up and down his spine. A soft voice whispered a song that sounded like the wind in his ears until Kincade and the police found him the following morning.

 

His imaginary friend disappeared after that day and the psychiatrist that stuffed all sorts of pills down his throat had made it more than clear that he hadn’t been saved by anyone. He had walked out of the house on his own and then went into shock when he realized what was happening.

 

But on some missions, when death was almost knocking on his door, he would catch a willowy apparition in the corner of his eye. The nights he got drunk by himself, he felt someone caressing the side of his face as soft lips covered his forehead in warm and loving kisses.

 

His trip down memory lane came to an abrupt end as a piece of debris fell on his leg and excruciating pain flooded his mind. He let out a strangled yell and tried to free himself.

 

“You promised me, James."

 

The Quartermaster’s voice came from above him and James saw the man staring down at him with his green eyes filled with disappointment, worry, and anger.

 

He moved a shaky and bloody hand up, surprised at how warm and real the man’s face felt under his touch. “I never keep my promises, you know that, Q.” He wasn’t sure he actually spoke, but if he was imagining the young man there, it was only normal for the man to hear his thoughts.

 

“You’re not six anymore, James. I’m actually going to have a problem carrying you out of this building.” He heard the words clearly, although the red lips did not move and James wondered how they tasted and if they were as soft as they looked.

 

He tried to will the apparition to lean over and give him a kiss, but this Q scoffed just like the real one did and waved his hands in the air. A warm wind enveloped James and pushed the heavy weight off of his leg, and he felt like he was floating. If he knew Death looked this good, he would have jumped in its arms a long time ago.

 

“I would be quite happy if you did not confuse me for Death, or claim you want her touch more than mine. She won’t ever let me live it down if you do.” Imaginary Q continued to sound exactly like the real one as he grumbled that strange sentence in James’ ear. He was hugging the agent’s battered body close to his chest, chasing away the cold and pain.

 

The world became blindingly white and leaves floated and danced around them as Q glowed and his eyes became completely green. James thought he was going to fall so he wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, clinging on to him.

 

Usually, he was the one holding the wounded in his arms, walking out of a burning building like a hero. But this time, it seemed that his mind wanted to make him feel just like all those victims felt: safe and scared, realizing that a part of their lives was over. Or, in James’ case, his life was over, period.

 

He blinked, and realised that he was not staring at a cracked yellow ceiling, but rather one made out of interwoven branches. Yellow and orange leaves fell around him. He sat up and found himself in a large bed covered in cloud-like sheets and, although he was dizzy, nothing hurt.

 

“Is this the afterlife?” He spoke to the empty room, and startled when Q walked into his field of vision.

 

The man was dressed strangely, a long green shirt that travelled down just enough to cover his bare thighs, and a long, golden cape flowing behind him. 

 

“Not quite, although you were pretty close to seeing it.” 

 

James held his breath as the man sat next to him, afraid that even the slightest move would case his hallucination to come to an end.

 

Q seemed annoyed by the agent's stillness and leaned close to him, his warm and sweet breath washing over James’ face. He smiled as he brought his hand up and James shivered when he felt the silky fingers touch his face only to yelp in pain and shock when he was pinched.

 

“What was that for?” He demanded, glaring at the laughing Q while rubbing his face.

 

“Just helping you realize this is real, Bond,” the man replied. He wrapped his long fingers around one of James’ ankles and easily pulled him down the bed. “I am real, this is real, and you are alive and well.” He ran a finger down the agent’s chest, circling a nipple and looking triumphant when James shivered. “M is furious, you know. Moneypenny was crying, as was Tanner.” He placed chaste kisses on the man’s chin until James growled and pulled him into a deep kiss, moving until Q was under him.

 

“What about you? How are you dealing with my death?” James asked after he ended the kiss, allowing Q to pull his head to his chest and rub his chin against it. This was, hands down, the best way to die and he was happy that his mind had made this whole place with Q, just for him.

 

“I am a total wreck because my favourite agent disappeared off the face of the earth. M sent me home, but I am not giving up and I will find you and drag you back to British soil by the tips of those ears of yours. Which seem to not be working because you still think you’re dying.” James flinched when the quartermaster tugged on his ears and suddenly found himself under him.

 

If he was going to trust the pain he felt, he was indeed alive and Q was really on top of him, pinching his nose and cheeks. But if he accepted that, then nothing else made sense. How could Q be back in London and here with him at the same time? He could he have travelled in the blink of an eye and heal him completely? Maybe he had been dosed with a dangerous nerve gas and he was still back in his hotel room, dreaming everything.

 

Q clicked his tongue and flicked James’ nose, rolling off of him.

 

“Stubborn old man,” he grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest, the wind in the room suddenly picking up, mimicking the man’s mood. “You were a stubborn and spoiled child, so I do not know why I thought you would grow into a mature and responsible adult.”

 

James moved to rest his head in Q’s lap, tugging softly on a strand of his hair to get his attention. 

 

“What do you know of my childhood? I thought you said you don’t read that far back into the double-oh’s files because you despise paper.” His heart was beating fast, but he tried to seem cool and relaxed, like he was truly accepting everything as it was presented to him.

 

“Well, you forgot because you were in shock and that psychiatrist was good at her job.” He drew something on James’ head and quickly kissed the man, swallowing the man’s scream of pain. “It hurts more to remember than to forget, doesn't it?”

 

James suddenly found himself in the forest near Skyfall Manor, watching his younger self trip on roots as he tried to go deeper into the forest. He remembered that day. He'd had a huge fight with his parents and decided to run away and live in the forest.

 

A bush moved and a large wolf appeared, but his younger self was too busy wiping tears from his eyes to notice. James tried to tackle himself out of the way on instinct, even though he knew he would survive.

“What are you doing here?” The Quartermaster asked the child, waving his hand in the air and making the giant wolf disappear before he could be seen.

 

“I’m running away,” young James said between sobs, hiding his face in the man’s legs, crying for his parents.

 

Q rolled his eyes and sighed before giving up and gathering the child in his arms. 

 

“You people are very confusing. You say one thing and then do another.” A huge stag came out of the forest and young James was plopped on its back and delivered to the gates of his house.

 

The scenery around him changed and James saw himself sitting in Q’s lap, showing him his toy robot and explaining how it worked, the not-yet-quartermaster watching him, captivated. 

 

“And does it actually do all the things you told me?” 

 

When child James shook his head, Q frowned and picked the little human up in one hand. “Do not toy with me, mortal! I could twist the forest so that a tree will eat y-" The threat died on his lips when the child wrapped his arms around his neck and he pulled the little human in his arms, sighing.

 

“Are you a creature of the forest? Can you fly? Can you turn into other animals? Can I show you to my parents? Please let me show you to my parents because they think I am making you up.” Little James insisted and although spirit-Q agreed, his parents never saw him.

 

He was upset with the creature back then and he saw himself throwing a tantrum in the middle of his library, rolling on the ground and kicking the air with his tiny feet, demanding Q show himself while his parents watched him worryingly. He understood now why Q hadn’t allowed anyone else but James to see him. The ethereal man had been afraid that he would end up as a test subject in a laboratory.

 

“But you did exist and you saved me from death back then,” James uttered, coming out of his daydreams to green eyes watching him. He cupped Q’s face and the man closed his eyes and allowed the agent to kiss him again and again, smiling.

 

“You started calling me Puck after your parents dragged you to see ‘A Midsummer Night's Dream,’ despite me insisting that wasn’t my name. You still called me that after I turned you into a fawn and to make me turn you back, you chewed my favourite cape and jumped on my back.” Q pouted against James’ lips and huffed, allowing James to push him back on the bed and flip him over.

 

The agent struggled to take the cape off, moving back a bit when it turned into a swarm of butterflies. Yes, he could easily accept that Q was out of this world, that he was a creature of legend. Everything about him made more sense, why his eyes seemed to be so old and why he spoke as if he held knowledge beyond his years. 

 

“I don’t think children should be allowed to see that play.” 

 

He started to gently rub his shoulders, enjoying how warm and alive the man felt under him.

 

“You shouldn’t stay here too long, James. I have to take you back before I forget how time really moves and a hundred years pass.” As he said those words, the world around them started to melt giving way to white walls and the pleasant smell of flowers and freshly cut grass was replaced by that of sanitizer.

 

James heard the beeping of machines and when he blinked, he was staring at hospital room. A nurse was shouting something in a language he couldn’t quite place. 

 

“Q?” 

 

He looked around the room in panic, starting to fight the two men that came and attempted to get him to lie back down in the bed.

 

“For the love of God, don’t hit the people who are here to help you,” Q said, sitting in a chair next to James’ bed. He winked and his agent smiled back at him.

 

A doctor appeared after James had calmed and tried to explain in broken English that he had been found outside a collapsed building and that they hoped he knew who he was because they had no idea.

 

Q disappeared as James asked for a phone and a few minutes later he was listening to a furious Eve yelling at him, demanding an apology for making them worry so much. The “I didn’t know you cared” line served only to annoy her more, the volume of her voice somehow increasing.

 

“The Quartermaster was a total mess, you bloody bastard!” She continued to say and by this point, James was keeping the phone away from his ear. “Where the bloody hell are you anyway? And if you tell me you’re on a bloody Paradise Island, so help me God, I will personally fly over there and empty my gun into you!”

 

The doctor and nurse watched James with interest, the man smiling at them and shaking his head in a manner that suggested that a woman screaming her head off on the other end of the phone was normal.

 

“Where is Q and how is he?” James asked when Eve stopped for air. “Not that I don’t like your voice, but I love it more when he’s the one screaming in my ear.”

 

Eve sighed and James could just picture her pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head, asking herself what she did wrong in a previous life to be punished in such a cruel way. 

 

“Bond, you’re incorrigible.” She took another deep breath. “He’s probably rubbing the sleep from his eyes while tracing this call so he can personally come to wherever you are and kill you for all the trouble you caused him. And let me be the first to tell you that I will cover for him if he returns with your lifeless body!”


End file.
